


visions

by cassyl



Series: witcher femslash february [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyl/pseuds/cassyl
Summary: Yennefer runs into some brigands on the road. Things don't go quite according to plan.
Relationships: Renfri | Shrike/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: witcher femslash february [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191461
Kudos: 2





	visions

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [@bamf-jaskier](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/)'s [Witcher Femslash February](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/post/641932214927523840/i-noticed-that-there-is-a-startling-lack-of-prompt) prompts!

One of the horses shrieks and the carriage lurches to a stop. Outside there is the rumble of low, hostile voices. Yennefer sighs impatiently. Brigands never seem to tire of waylaying royal caravans, even though it never ends well for them, in the long run. This is why Yennefer prefers to travel by portal. But royal instructions must be carried out to the letter, regardless of what Yennefer wants.

The door to the carriage is wrenched open, and before the cutthroat can say, “Your money or your life,” or whatever trite threat he was planning to make, Yennefer knocks him to the ground with a flick of her wrist. One of his comrades rushes up to take his place, and she flings him head over heels into the underbrush. 

When no one else steps forward, Yennefer steps out of the carriage and surveys the scene. There are two more men on horseback blocking the road, one struggling to control the frightened horses, and another up on the coach box, holding her driver at knifepoint. The footman lies bleeding on the road—not dead, but not getting up anytime soon.

“You can desist now,” Yennefer says in a bored tone, “or you can find out what happens to people who annoy King Virfuril’s royal mage.”

The remaining brigands glance at once another, and then they all turn to look questioningly at someone Yennefer can’t see. The person who steps into view around the side of the carriage is not who Yennefer expects—no hulking highwayman, but a girl barely older than an Aretuza adept, with hair growing out unevenly from an unfortunate close crop. From the way the other bandits’ eyes follow her, this child is evidently their leader. She’s certainly dressed for it—Yennefer has to admit that in her leather cuirass and side-swept cloak, the girl cuts a rather dashing figure. And the sword she carries looks wickedly sharp, even if she seems hardly old enough to wield it.

“You’re a long way from Vengerberg, witch,” the girl says with a sneer. 

“What business is it of yours if I am?” Yennefer asks, genuinely curious.

“Maybe I don’t like mages meddling where they don’t belong.” Though she affects coarseness, the girl’s voice has traces of a refined accent—an exile from the royal court of one of those little principalities in the East March, maybe.

Yennefer knows she ought to turn them all into toads and be on her way, but this girl has surprised her, and it’s been a long time since anyone managed that. “Come here, girl.”

“Why in hell would I do that?” the brigand spits, and Yennefer laughs.

“If I was going to hurt you, I’d have done it already,” she says, holding up her hands to show she means no harm. “I just want to talk to you without craning my neck.”

Cautiously, the girl comes closer, though she keeps out of arm’s reach, her sword at the ready—as if it would do her any good against Yennefer’s magic. As she approaches, Yennefer skims the surface of her thoughts, and almost staggers backwards under the onslaught of rage and hurt she encounters there. It’s achingly familiar, that constant throb of anger in every beat of her heart. And there’s something else, too, that Yennefer recognizes—a strange thread of unrealized power. The girl has the gift of sight, she realizes, just before a vision wells up in the girl’s mind and surrounds them both.

They see a city street—an ultimatum—a man with white hair and a grim face—the girl’s sword in his grip—her blood on his hands—the flutter of her pulse in her throat as her last breath leaves her.

The girl stumbles back, breaking the connection, leaving them both gasping. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Yennefer says. “You have the gift of sight. You’re one of those girls born under the black sun.”

The girl doesn’t answer, still breathing hard and staring at Yennefer as if she has never seen anything like her. The feeling is mutual.

Yennefer has never known someone so fatally caught in a net of her own pain. The desire for revenge runs through her like a pulse, feeding her every thought. Yennefer can hardly imagine what this girl would be without that anger, and yet, that vision showed without a doubt what will happen if she is not released from that fury’s grasp in time, and that Yennefer cannot allow.

“I can help you kill Stregobor,” she says.

The girl stares at her, stunned. Behind her, the men glance uneasily at one another. “How did you . . . ?”

“I read it in your thoughts,” Yennefer says simply. “I didn’t even have to dig for it. It’s everywhere inside you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she says fiercely, but she looks frightened. And why shouldn’t she? That longing for revenge can become precious to someone in as much pain as she is, and must think Yennefer is going to try to take it away from her. “Why would you help someone who a few minutes ago was ready to kill you, too?”

Yennefer shrugs. “Because I’m tired of wasting my talents on people who don’t deserve my help,” she says. “Because I know what he did to you and those other girls, and I don’t blame you for wanting to make him pay.” Because, she does not say, she knows what it is to want to hurt herself because she is too full of rage, and she doesn’t think she could to live with it if she let this girl destroy herself. “Or maybe I’m just bored, and looking for a change.”

“In that case,” the girl says in a shaking voice, “I accept.” She moves to kneel at Yennefer’s feet, pressing one hand to her chest and using the other to bring Yennefer’s hand to her lips. “If you’ll help me kill Stregobor, I’ll swear fealty to you, my lady. Anything you want from me, it’s yours.”

Yennefer touches the girl’s dirty, tangled hair. “I don’t want your fealty,” she says. “I want you to live.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://likecastle.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
